


Another Night, Another Desk

by Sira



Series: Desk!Verse [2]
Category: The Closer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 06:05:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sira/pseuds/Sira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*points at title...*<br/>Yes, I am that creative</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Night, Another Desk

**Author's Note:**

> All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Sighing in annoyance, he clapped the folder shut, deciding he’d had enough for the day. His work was done and if he were honest with himself, he’d admit that he ran out of reasons to linger here hours ago. What was he waiting for?

Getting up, his muscles stiff from sitting still for so long, he shook his head. Nothing. He was waiting for nothing. It was only that he had wanted to use the relatively quiet time to catch up on some backlog. That and the fact he wanted to avoid an empty house. Now, that his children were with their mother for their vacation, he had no one waiting for him; his house was too quiet for his liking. Yeah, if he only repeated this often enough he might even believe it.

His overtime had nothing to do with the fiery, temperamental redhead he had fucked in this office only a few days ago. It had nothing to do with the fact the encounter had left him emotionally shaken, and it sure as hell had nothing to do with fact he didn’t want to put a lid on things.

If it had to do with his night, with Sharon Raydor, he’d have to confess he was in here waiting for another glimpse of her, waiting to catch her alone so he could… could… he had no idea what he’d do should he found himself alone with her once again. Sure, he had seen her a few times since their tryst but it had all been about business; it had been Assitant ChiefPope dealing with Captain Raydor. They had never been alone during these instances either  
.  
God, how lonely was he, trying to get a glimpse of the person he’d had a one time encounter with? But was it loneliness, a nagging voice inside his head asked? He called this voice ‘the devil’s advocate’, and he had spent way too much time with it in the last days. He sighed again. Was it perhaps that there was something in Sharon Raydor that called out to him? She was a beautiful woman, strikingly so, headstrong, opinionated, a firm believer in justice, a woman who wouldn’t stray from her path.

Wasn’t it a joke that they wouldn’t have ended up with her on his desk if she hadn’t been right? Even if he hadn’t wanted to admit it at this point of time, it didn’t change the truth. Every human being had a weakness; his went by the name Brenda Leigh Johnson. He simply couldn’t say no to the woman who had held his heart for so long. He had cursed his mistake to let her go for years. Seeing her with Fritz had speared his heart, had made him jealous, bitter. It hadn’t been so long either since he had been able to let it rest, but finally that ship had sailed. He wasn’t in love with Brenda Leigh any longer, didn’t want to get back together with her. Still, it didn’t mean that he could simply resist the woman who waltzed through life with the tact and energy of an elephant. Brenda was an excellent cop with instincts that were spot-on, and above all else, she was his friend.

Still, his heart was vacant, if one discounted the fact it ached for something, or was that someone? Growling under his breath, he put his scarf around his neck and switched off the light in his office before he left the room he spent actually more time in than in the place he called home. He had nearly crossed the room when he heard the click of heels, turned surprised for a moment, unsure if it was his imagination presenting him with an image of Sharon Raydor or the woman herself. She slowed down at the sight of him, obviously as surprised about seeing him her as he was to see her. He watched her squaring her shoulders, a polite, formal, blank smile appearing on her face. Sure, she wanted to act as if nothing had ever happened. Sorry but he wouldn’t have any of this shit.

“Captain, what are you doing here at this hour?” he asked when she tried to pass him.

She stopped safely out of reach, he noted with a trace of irritation mingled with amusement. Did she think he’d sweep her up and deposit her on the next desk for a repeat performance?

Was the thought really so absurd, his trusted voice piped up again.

“I have finished my report on the Hoffmann case. I was about to leave it on your desk before heading out.”

“I see. You can give it to me now.” He held out his hand, and she stepped closer holding out the report to him. Taking it, he noted she looked tired, a tiny frown on her face that could speak of a headache. She seemed tense as well. Hells bells, she looked like a woman in need of some serious pampering. Thoughts he didn’t want to encourage but couldn’t stop either ran through his head, making him ask himself how she might look when she wasn’t in one of her business suits but in comfortable clothes at home, or what she’d wear if she dressed up for going out. How would a relaxed Sharon Raydor look like and why did he want to find out now? Desperately.

Something about this woman had him enthralled, had awoken the explorer in him, had made a crack, even if it was just a tiny one, in the walls he had erected around himself. He bit back a bitter chuckle. How could it be that you fucked a woman only to know less about her and her life afterwards than you had before?

“We should talk,” he said, and only when hearing the words aloud, he knew them to be true. He couldn’t bury what had happened between them, needed some closure, some way or the other. This time he couldn’t rely on Brenda to close the case. A snort wanted to rise up in his throat. What was it with Brenda that made her the root of so many of his problems? It was about time to shake the shackles of the past, to star fresh.

Was it only his imagination or did Raydor – Sharon – he corrected, straighten up just tad bit more, the cautious expression in her eyes replaced by an icy one

“Is it about the case?” she asked.

“You damned well know it isn’t.” Walking over to the next desk, Provenza’s, he sat down on it, sizing her up. She didn’t like it, he could tell it by the way her eyes flashed. He liked it better than the expression from before, liked to see glimpses of the woman. But he already knew anger and passion from her: now he wanted something different, something more.

“I think in this case we don’t have anything to discuss. If you’ll excuse me now.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Pardon me?” She tilted her head.

“I said, no, I won’t. I don’t know about you, but I don’t make it a habit to fuck colleagues in my office.”

He knew what she was going to say a split second before she opened her mouth, and he lifted his hands.

“No need to remind me of Brenda. That affair ended a long time ago. It’s over.” He didn’t know why he told her, it was none of her business but part of him wanted her to know.

“Alright, so we both don’t usually do these things. That’s great. If you ask me, there is nothing more to discuss. We fucked, Assistant Chief. Those few minutes weren’t about love or about feelings but about release. Let’s chalk it up to a mistake, to tea and sympathy.”

He thought he could see something buried under the veneer of a woman who bore her burdens well, who didn’t ask for anything. Dammit, he wanted to see her smile, he wanted to see her looking at him with something else besides anger, or barely disguised frustration.  
“Have you ever repeated a mistake?” he asked casually, dropping the file and his bag on the ground beside him. For the first time, he had baffled her, her mask slipping to reveal curiosity with a trace of wariness but within a second, her walls were up once more.

“No, I haven’t, not if it could be helped.”

“What if it can’t be helped?”

She shook her head, tongue in cheek, rolling her eyes at no one in particular.

“May I ask you what you are getting at, Chief Assistant Pope?”

“It’s after hours, we fucked, I think it would be safe if you called me Will.”

Another flicker of surprise. “I think that would be way out of line seeing that we’re still at work.” Her voice was dispassionate, uncaring but he knew that was only the outside. Whatever she was feeling inside was carefully hidden

Yes, He wanted to get to know her; he would. Before he had gotten his latest position, paperwork filling three quarters of his days, he had been a good cop and some instincts never died.

“We could finish this conversation somewhere else if you prefer that.”

“I’d prefer not to have this discussion at all.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and he wondered if she was aware of this sign of uncertainty.

“I never meant for us to end like… this that night,” he said.

“Well, me neither. Now that we’re clear on this…” She looked at him, her gaze unwavering. So she wouldn’t make it easy for him; he hadn’t expected her to. He didn’t know why he didn’t simply let it go, though maybe he knew but didn’t want to admit to it.

“I can’t stop thinking about it.”

He got up, walked over to her until he stood well in her personal space, close enough to catch her scent, a mixture of a hint of perfume, some flowery shampoo and something uniquely her. Close enough to hear her breathing not entirely steady. Definitely close enough to see the corner of her mouth twitch.

“You should.” Her voice had lost some of its strength as if the reducing distance between them was melting the ice between them, albeit fractionally.

“Maybe it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it did. But sometimes the end has the potential to be a beginning.” He shrugged, watched amused how she seemed to grow taller, become more rigid.

“Are you propositioning me, Chief Assistant?”

“You’re a smart woman, you figure it out.”

She snorted. “Try your luck with Chief Johnson.” She tried to walk away but he grabbed her wrist, turning her back to him.

“It’s not Brenda driving me crazy. It’s not Brenda I want to get to know.”

Her eyes blazed, controlled fury staring back at him. “I guess it’s not Brenda you want to fuck either.”

He sighed. “Damn, Sharon. Give me a chance.”

He had no idea what had made him use her first name, but he found it rolled nicely over his lips. Turning her head away, he could see a myriad of emotions dancing over her face. She deflated in front of him, and when she faced him again, he saw the woman instead of the cop for the first time. The cop had gone completely, leaving a beautiful if tired woman behind. His heart made a painful leap inside of his chest. He had wanted to see but now that he did, he found himself overwhelmed by all the feelings welling up in him, feelings he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“A chance for what?”

“Getting to know you, find out why I can’t let go.”

She let out a shuddering breath, looked at a point somewhere about his shoulder.

“It was only a moment of physical weakness.”

He nodded. “Alright, then it wouldn’t hurt, wouldn’t mean anything if we repeated the mistake, would it?”

Not wanting her to think about it, to find a way to talk them out of it, he reached for her, pulled her close until he could feel her breath on his face.

“I want you.”

Leaning in, he kissed her but not in a frenzy like their first time, but with a tenderness that shocked her, shocked him, as did the tingle of arousal running all the way over his back. Tugging at her bottom lip, she released a quiet hum, and she opened up to him, an invitation he found himself unable to resist, his tongue sliding into her mouth. He recognised her taste, the feel of her tongue against his. Damn, it heightened his desire, and by now, he was already half-hard for the woman in front of him. He cursed the fact that their environment here would prevent him from leisurely exploring her, but he hoped that the next time – there simply had to be a next time – would be somewhere more private, somewhere he could take his time.

But before he could think about this, about a next time, he had to convince her to give them, him a chance. Wasn’t it crazy, wasn’t he crazy? An hour ago, he hadn’t even known he wanted to woo this woman, and now it seemed inevitable. Was this only hormones talking? Would the urge abate once they parted this evening? He couldn’t know but he’d care later on; now, he needed her.

Spinning her around, he walked her back to the desk he’d been sitting on a few minutes ago. This was madness. They were even more public than they had been the last time. He only broke their lip-lock to lift her onto the desk, surprised to find her chuckling quietly. Looking at her, he found her gaze had actually softened, something distinctively feminine having taken over.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said.

“To do it on a desk?” he asked while he bunched her skirt around her waist, with Sharon helpfully lifting her ass. He should thank her for being in skirts most of the days.

“To do it on Provenza’s desk. He can’t stand when anything is out of place.”  
She was right, not that he cared. Not even bothering to look, he swiped everything off the table.

“I don’t give a damn.”

She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist, just like she had done the first time, but he shook his head, gently pushed her down. Eyebrow quirked, she did as he wanted, spreading her self out of the table. He could see her breast heaving under the thin material of her blouse, and unable to withstand the invitation, he deftly opened a few buttons until he could see her bra, her nipples taut under the lacy material. Stroking them with the pads of his thumbs, he nearly cried out in triumph when she closed her eyes, arching into the touch.

“Meet me for dinner tomorrow,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, that’s a bad idea.”

It seemed he had to work harder to persuade her. He couldn’t help the smile forming on his face. He’d love to work harder. One of his hands sneaked under her panties and he found her wet, swollen. So he wasn’t the only one aroused. She wanted him, too. One of his fingers, dipped inside of her folds, traced along the inside of her labia, her skin soft under his fingertips. Experimentally, he dipped his finger inside of her, relishing her wanton pant.

Feeling the need to know how she tasted, her pulled out of her, Sharon’s eyes flying open when he stopped his caresses after they had barely begun. Her eyes darkened when she watched him licking his finger clean. She tasted delicious but somehow he had expected that of her. His hunger greater than before, he slid insider her panties once more, sliding first one, then two fingers deeply insider of her, curving them upwards while his thumb sought out her clit. She hummed, moaned quietly, tried to resist the sensations.

“Let go,” he commanded, rubbing her clit harder, his heart beating rapidly at the sight of the flush spreading on her chest, her face.

“I want you inside, now,” she said, and he could see she was trying to hold onto her control, that she didn’t want to come yet, didn’t want to let reality sink back in.

“Will you agree to dinner tomorrow?” Maybe it wasn’t right to push her buttons like this but he wanted a chance, just one god damned chance.

“Yes, I will.”

This was enough for him. Fumbling with his pants, he opened them, just shoved them down enough so he was free to enter her. He pulled her just a bit closer to the edge of the desk, making sure he held her eyes when he pushed inside her. It was like the last time, yet it wasn’t. This time, although aroused beyond reason, there was no anger. There was heat in shoves and spades, heat that threatened to consume him, but beyond it all there was a profound need for the woman in front of him.

He didn’t want just a fuck, he wanted a fuck with this woman, and after tonight he wanted dinner, wanted more, a chance…

He watched her biting her lip to not cry out, and her pupils dilated under the onslaught of sensations. Knowing this would be over way too soon, he slipped a hand between then, circling her clit again. To his surprise, delight, her hand met his, showed him how she liked to be touched best. Stroking her swollen nub as she had shown him, he revelled in hearing her quiet moans, to see her back arching off the table, into his touch, wanting more and more, until she came apart with a subdued cry, her spasms milking his cock so he couldn’t help himself.

He followed her into oblivion, knowing he probably bruised her thighs because he held onto them as if they were a lifeline. Only when the last of his shudders had ebbed, he opened his eyes, found her studying him as if he were a puzzle she wanted to solve.

Pulling out of her, he went to right himself, holding her down when she wanted to sit up, and taking an unused handkerchief, he gently wiped her clean.

She swallowed, obviously unsure with this display of tenderness and sat up. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

When she stood, looking professional once more, if one didn’t count the fact her hair was mussed, he could see the change taking place again, the cop oppressing the woman yet again. Drawing her close, he kissed her one last time, tenderly, with as much feeling as he could, not letting her go until she was slightly panting.

“Dinner tomorrow. At eight. I’ll meet you at the exit.”

Not sparing her one more glance, not caring about the chaos there still was, he picked up his bag, the report, and left. He didn’t know what it was about Sharon Raydor, but he hoped she’d be there tomorrow. She had to be there. Anything else was unthinkable.

The end


End file.
